


Chumming the Waters

by ssa_archivist



Category: Smallville
Genre: Angst, Drama, First Time, M/M, episode-related
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-03-04
Updated: 2003-03-04
Packaged: 2017-11-01 06:19:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/353031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ssa_archivist/pseuds/ssa_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lex and Lucas plot to overthrow Lionel.  Meanwhile, Lex takes advantage of his exile to seduce Clark.  (Lex's POV)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Chumming the Waters

## Chumming the Waters

by SkaterBoy

[]()

* * *

Television without Pity: 

"Lex asks if he can stay with the Kents for a while. A thousand fanfic writers go, `Hey, that was _my_ idea!' 

[The next morning, Jonathan] says he couldn't sleep. [Martha] asks if that was because of their new houseguest. Well, sorta. Lex and Clark make all kinds of noise together out in that barn. It scares the cows." 

Feedback: This ends a little more than halfway through Prodigal. If you want a sequel, send feedback!!!! 

Disclaimer: The characters and the show don't belong to me, but several situations and quotes are taken from the episode "Prodigal". No money is being made from this fiction, so please don't sue me. Thank you. 

* * *

It figures the first time I meet my brother - who, by the way, I didn't know about until three months ago, only to learn that he's supposedly dead - he's running for his life in Edge City, Metropolis' version of Chinatown. I'm not impressed. First of all, it's a sad day when a Luthor gets caught in his own con. But not a bad move using a passerby as bullet-proof shield. That, I can respect. 

I grab his wrist and yell at him to get in the limo. Talk about first impressions, having to save Lucas' ass within a half minute of meeting him. 

"Who the hell are you?" 

At least he has the sense to ask who I am before getting into my car. For all he knows, I'm one of his machine-gun toting fans from the casino. "Lucas." He doesn't seem concerned that I know his name. "I'm your brother." 

My second disappointment comes when he accepts my explanation and ducks into the limo behind me. Within seconds Enrique's got us screeching around the corner, and Lucas is hanging on for dear life. Looks like baby brother isn't such a hotshot after all. 

Or, I could be wrong. "Lucas, put that away." I'm not fast enough though, because next thing I know he's got me in a headlock, gun at my temple. Ah, brings me back to my Club Zero days. Not to worry, I'll talk him down in no time. He may be a card shark but he's never dealt with me. My voice is calm, but I'm even calmer. I almost want to laugh at the situation. I should've thought something like this would happen. After all, he _is_ a Luthor. 

"Lucas, a nine mil isn't going to be much of a defense against an Uzi." He just pushes the gun harder into my head, which is more annoying than painful. "Look, I really am your brother. If you want proof, check the overhead compartment. I have identification in there." 

He pulls me up with him as he searches the compartment and I have to stop myself from rolling my eyes. Apparently he's satisfied with what he finds because he shoves me across the seat. I rub my face where he had me at gunpoint, just for effect, of course. He looks ridiculous trying to stand up in the limo, probably trying to tower over me and look tough. 

"If I'd wanted to kill you, you'd be dead already." He keeps the gun trained on me. I'm ready to throttle him for being so fucking arrogant. _No one_ threatens Lex Luthor and gets away with it. Not even his long-lost bastard brother. 

"What are you doing in Edge City?" 

So, the kid can talk. That's an improvement. "I was looking for my brother." I flash him my most brilliant smile but he doesn't return it. No surprise there. He lowers the gun, and I realize he's staring at my head. Probably estimating my age, thinking I'm too young to be bald. I decide to ignore his curiosity and smirk. "Looks like I found him." 

He lowers himself to the seat beside me, still holding the gun. One point for Lucas. He better be wary. 

We share our sordid stories. Turns out it's good to be a Luthor, whether you're his business associate in Smallville or a sociological experiment in Edge City. Oh yes, I see it, even if Lucas is too clueless to. He talks about being in and out of foster homes and jail, never quite homeless and always bailed out, as if it's a fact of life. I can't believe his stupidity. He actually thinks it's luck that's kept him alive this long. 

I give him my sob story about being the poor little rich boy, leaving out the important details like how much Lionel and I hate each other. How Lionel was disappointed in me when I didn't kill him. How Lionel virtually signed my death warrant when he wouldn't give up what Rachel wanted. Isn't it funny how all of Lionel's acquaintances, from his ex-lovers to bastard sons of said ex-lovers, want to kill me? I think it's hilarious. Really says something about being a Luthor. 

Apparently he buys into the patches of trustworthiness I show him because he lets go of the gun. Oh, wrong move, brother. Now I've got _him_ in a headlock, but I've got the gun on his throat. It's more threatening that way. If he tries to swallow, the gun will dig into his flesh. Not only will it make him more nervous, it'll let me know that he adequately respects my piece. His, actually, but I don't really care about technicalities. 

"Don't you _ever_ put a gun on me. Ever." He doesn't answer, so I give him an encouraging nudge with the gun's muzzle. "Do you hear me?" 

"Yes." His voice is dry and I think he's actually scared. Good for him. He needs a reality check. 

"So tell me, Lucas, what went wrong? Go into business with someone you found out you couldn't trust?" 

"No." Looks like I hit a nerve. This could definitely work in my favor. 

"You want it to happen again?" 

"Why?" He's weighing his options, deciding whether I'm giving him a warning or a making him an offer he can't refuse. Both, actually, but there's no need for him to know that. Yet. 

"It's pretty convenient that you were there waiting for me, Lucas. Makes me think that maybe you knew I was coming." 

"I don't know what you're talking about." 

Famous last words. I push the gun a little harder into his neck. "Sure you do, Lucas." I can't help laying it on thick, putting so much honey into my voice it makes _me_ sick. "Daddy tipped you off when he found out I'd found you. Arranges it so you're in the right place at the right time. Tell me I'm wrong, brother. Tell me my imagination is going overboard." 

Silence. A swallow. Very interesting. "I see." It hurts a little. I know Lionel hates me, but knowing that he's known all along, been lying to me. It's not new, but this is my brother, for Christ's sake. Why did he have to lie to me about my brother? Why couldn't he have told Rachel that Lucas was alive and that Clark wasn't her son, that... 

Holy shit. My father tried to kill me. He knew about Lucas, he knew Rachel was crazy. Maybe it was just convenient that she kidnapped me but he fucking _knew_ that she was going to kill me and he could have stopped it! He was probably disappointed when he found out Clark saved my life. Fucking bastard! And now I've got Lucas. I can kill him if I want. Lionel wouldn't even care if Lucas died, if I... 

That's what he wants. He doesn't want an heir, he wants to be Adam. He _wanted_ me to find Lucas. I can't stop the grin on my face when I realize I can give Lionel exactly what he wants, or so he'll think. Then I'll send his world crashing down on him. Beautiful. 

"Lucas, have you ever heard the story of Cain and Abel?" Screw the cliche. Every plan needs an eloquent introduction, and I never turn down a chance at eloquence. I can't wait to get back to Smallville. 

* * *

My father, the mercenary. And I wondered where Lucas got it from. 

"Hello, dad." I don't even bother hiding my sarcasm. I stopped trying long ago. His eyes flit to Lucas with his white t-shirt and leather jacket - talk about clich - and back to me. So, how does it feel, dad, knowing that Lucas didn't kill me? Disappointed? 

I turn to Lucas and say innocently, "Lucas, this is your father." Like some family reunion show on Maury Povich. Right. 

"Mr. Luthor." Lucas is so smooth. I glance at him as Lionel goes over and wraps a comforting hand around the back of Lucas' neck before pulling him into a tight hug. What is he doing, checking for a data port? 

"Son." Lionel's trying to look emotional and caring, and it's almost convincing. Son of a _bitch_. How dare he pretend to care about Lucas when all he's ever done is condescend me. I want so bad right now to be pissed off but my stupid brain is too busy being jealous. Fucking _jealous_ of what I know is just a show. It's fake. He doesn't care about Lucas. He doesn't. He can't. 

"At least biologically speaking." Just the right amount of sarcasm mixed in with wistfulness. Lucas is definitely my brother. Lionel has the nerve to look _pained_. I want to punch him. Not a new feeling, believe me. 

Lucas goes over and examines one of Lionel's swords, showing off his impressive knowledge by first complimenting its design, then stating that it's a fake. 

"That's a keen observation." Like Lionel didn't already know that. He may be rich, but he's as miserly in his decorative furniture as he is in his love. 

"An especially keen observation coming from someone you told me is dead." If looks could kill, Lionel and I would _both_ be dead right now. Leaving the empire to Lucas. We stare off for a while before he dismisses Lucas. 

Let's talk, dad. I put on my best smile. "So the prodigal son returns." Which leads to a witty conversation involving quotes from the Bible. Sometimes I wonder if Lionel has cue cards made up when I'm not looking, because I don't think he's read the Bible once in his life, or any piece of literature not involving corporate takeover. Which is on both of our minds, because Lionel asks what I have to gain from accepting Lucas so quickly. Oh gee, I don't know dad, maybe the 10% of LuthorCorp stock shares all Luthors get when they turn 18. 

"The vital 10% you need to vote me out of power. Is that why half the board hasn't been returning my calls?" It's either that, or no one in their right mind would go out of their way to interact with the father of all bastards. "Oh my word," and there's a confident laugh, "You're staging a coup." Wow, Lionel, you're swift. 

He puts up with my presence for a few more minutes before calling his secretary. Dismissed by default. Sometimes Lionel is too predictable. 

Speaking of predictable, I decide to improve my day by going over to Clark's house. Lucas doesn't say anything, just comes along for the ride. He doesn't even ask why we're driving out into the boondocks to see some kid. Lucas doesn't have to know that Clark saved my life, twice, and that that's my excuse for being his friend. Not telling him that, of course, gives Lucas the chance to make his own deductions, which is fine by me. 

Clark's playing basketball with his friend Pete when we get to the farm. If I didn't have Lucas with me I'd park the convertible and just watch until one of them noticed me, but I'm not going to be _that_ obvious. I want Lucas to make assumptions, not read a cheatsheet. I introduce him to Smallville's token dork and black kid, in that order. 

"Sup guys." Who does Lucas think he is, Mr. Cool? He plays ball with Pete, who still doesn't trust me (making him a bit smarter than Clark), so I can talk to my latest conquest-to-be. 

Clark is predictably uncertain about Lucas. "I thought he was... you know, dead and stuff." What am I supposed to say, so did I, Clark, even though I learned long ago that everything that comes out of Lionel's mouth is a lie? Not quite. 

Then my phone rings. It's the bank. What the hell? I've told them not to call me at this number. 

I take the call. Clark joins Lucas and Pete on the court and I hear Lucas say, oh-so-suggestively, "So, uh, you and Lex seem close." Ha. Don't I wish. 

But I have other things to worry about. It seems that someone has frozen all my assets at the bank. I really shouldn't be surprised. Now, at least, Lucas and I can put my plan into action. All in good time. 

* * *

Ah, the mansion. The stone-cold `home' I've had to share with Lionel since he supposedly went blind after nearly dying in the tornado. But enough regrets. I have a bastard to fry. 

"Would you mind telling me why all my bank assets are frozen?" 

"I'm tired of your constant mutiny, Lex." _That's_ a new one. Like I had any other choice. Like he didn't fucking train me to try to overthrow him. 

I listen to him berate me about using all my assets as collateral, explain that since LexCorp is a LuthorCorp holding it belongs to him now, and blah blah fucking blah. 

"I want you out of the mansion." 

Just wait a fucking minute. This wasn't part of the plan. It's kind of hard to stay calm as I try to talk him out of it, but no amount of charm is going to change Lionel's mind now. Dammit. Lucas must have been too convincing. I'm about to victoriously order him to leave my house when I hear Lucas' voice. 

"Don't be so sure about that." Fuck. Lionel must have done the `Luke, I am your father' deal. And Lucas fell for it. Joined the dark side. 

"Well, Lex, looks like you lose." Lionel is so fucking _proud_ of himself. Just wait, asshole. You'll get yours. 

And Lucas. You'd think he would've learned not to mess with me, but no. My bastard of a brother turned on me. 

He _will_ pay. 

* * *

Now I'm the one forced to consider my options. The decision should be an easy one, but I can't just go over to Clark's house. Not without sufficiently rejecting all other possibilities and making sure no one know about the several hundred grand I have in my pockets. But I've always been good at justification, and I quickly find good reasons for not going to Helen's or Metropolis or, God help me, Victoria's. Luthors like to live dangerously. We're not suicidal. Except maybe Lucas. He seems to have a death wish. 

Clark's it is then. No problem. It's the logical course of action. Unless I consider why, exactly, it's my first choice, and the rifle Jonathan Kent is so fond of. Talk about suicidal. Fine then, I'll just have to be careful. But there's no way I'm giving up this opportunity. Yes, the heavens have shined on Lex Luthor. 

It's a good thing when Clark opens the door. It's not a good thing when his parents stand behind him, looking at me like the Luthor they hate that I am. Jonathan, anyway. Martha likes me. She likes everyone, even Lionel. Gag me. Seriously. 

I manage to look like I _don't_ want to be here, like this was my last choice. It won't work if I don't even get past the front door. I do my best to look humble as I explain my predicament. 

"I've been left with nothing, not even a place to live. Can I stay here for a while?" It's hard to act pathetic, but that may be the only thing that gets me inside. It's Martha who invites me inside. Jonathan looks about ready to wring my neck. Or Lionel's. Hey, get in line. 

Jonathan sends Clark to show me to the spare bedroom, probably so he can give Martha a little lecture about how you don't let strays in the house. He's dumber than I thought. Who knew he'd let me be along with his impressionable teenaged son? I'd bet my thousand-dollar gator boots that if it was Lana asking to stay here, Clark wouldn't be left to show _her_ the bedroom. Jonathan Kent doesn't trust me because I'm a Luthor, not because I'm planning to seduce Clark. Then again, Jonathan isn't aware of that little detail. As it should be. 

I follow Clark to the spare bedroom. It's across from his room. How convenient. This might be easier than I thought. 

"So, um, this is it." It's not unusual for Clark to stutter. He's one of those pretty boys who doesn't know he's hot, so I don't read anything into it. Alas, poor Clark. So young, so naive. He has no idea. 

"Thanks, Clark. This is fine." I smile at him, the charming Luthor smile I save just for him. He blushes. This is going to be fun. 

"Um, if you need to, the bathroom's down the hall, well, I guess you can find it..." He ducks his head and I can see him trying not to smile. Looks like someone's happy I'm here. I can work with that. "Well, yeah. So, we have dinner at six. See you then?" 

"Of course, Clark." He blushes again and hesitates before turning to leave the room. 

I'm the perfect gentleman at dinner, complimenting Martha on her cooking and asking Jonathan about the farm. I notice Clark sneaking little looks at me but I choose to ignore that for now. There's time for flirting later, when Mr. and Mrs. Goody-Two-Shoes aren't in the room. 

I offer to help Martha with the dishes, which she finds flattering and appropriate. She sends Jonathan a see-I-told-you-he's-a-nice-young-man look, and he just grunts and reads his newspaper at the table, watching to make sure I don't make any moves on his wife. I won't even dignify that with a remark. 

They _finally_ decide to go upstairs. "Don't stay up too late, Clark," Jonathan orders, but he's looking at me. I smile innocently and he gives me this suspicious look, and practically walks backwards up the stairs. Wonder what's stuck in his craw. I note that they go to bed at eight - must be a farm thing - and wonder what time I'll be expected to get up. I have no illusions about getting a free ride. I see at least a few chores in my future. 

But for now, I have Clark to myself. Cue evil laughter. He's sitting on the couch, flipping through the channels. Looks a little tense. 

"Hey, Clark. What are you watching?" I settle beside him and he tenses up some more. Hmm. 

"Um, nothing really. Just channel surfing." He doesn't look at me, just keeps changing the channel. "There's nothing on." 

I hold out my hand. "May I?" Clark nods, a little hesitantly, and I purposely let my fingers brush his when I take the remote. Nice. I flip through the channels and stop at a movie that's half over. At nine, when the it's over, Clark starts to get up. Going to bed, I assume. I wait until he's at the bottom of the stairs, then speak up. 

"Do you get HBO?" 

Clark stops. "I think so. Why?" 

"Just wondering. There's a show I want to watch. You don't mind if I stay up and watch, do you?" 

"Um..." I feel him moving closer to the couch. I look back at him and he looks very curious. "What do you want to watch?" 

"I don't know if you're old enough to watch it, Clark. It's pretty explicit." That just makes him more curious, not to mention more nervous. 

"I don't know if you should, Lex. My parents..." 

Your parents are probably upstairs discussing what a bad influence I am on you. I feel like the stranger in the car offering candy to a little kid. "It's okay, Clark. I'll turn it off if you think I should." 

"No, no, that's okay. I um, you're our guest..." Curiosity killed the cat, Clark. I can tell he's dying for an invitation. 

"Why don't you join me, Clark?" 

He pauses, but I know he's going to accept even before _he_ knows. "Well, okay." He acts reluctant when he sits beside me, where he was two minutes ago. Jesus. If it was that hard to get him to stay up past his bedtime... "So what show is it?" 

It's Six Feet Under, which I let him figure out on his own. He's clearly seen the show before, but covers up his recognition by saying, "Hey, that's the guy from Sports Night." Clark can be so transparent at times. It's part of the reason this is going to be fun. 

The problem with Six Feet Under is that it's too subtle and too obvious at the same time. It's an interesting combination. I like it because it's dark. Not to mention that Peter Krause is hot. Why couldn't _he_ have been the gay brother? 

Clark cringes at the dead body shots and discussions about dressing up corpses. It's amusing, really. And we're not even to the main event. We finally get to David making out with another guy and Clark looks more uncomfortable than I've ever seen him. 

"My dad says that's wrong." 

I couldn't have asked for a better opening. The fact that Clark says this makes me think that he wants me to tell him that it's not wrong. Sorry, kid. I'm not going to make it that easy for you. 

"Well, Clark, a lot of people think that it is. What do you think?" 

He certainly didn't expect that. Time for some stuttering. 

"Um, I don't, I haven't really though about it. I guess, it's okay. I mean, it's not my business." 

How cute. The old what-people-do-in-their-own-homes excuse. Jonathan has taught Clark well. Now it's time for me to unteach him. Clark, it seems, is also intent on being untaught. 

"So, um, what do you think about it, Lex?" 

What was I saying about openings? I couldn't have planned this better myself. I act like I'm watching the show as I shrug, looking at him out of the corner of my eye. 

"I've always believed in following one's feelings." That's not entirely true, since I've been raised to see feelings and emotion as weaknesses. "Love is about being true to your heart, not right or wrong." Love. What a load of crap. It's working, though. Clark moves a little closer to me. 

He watches them kiss and glances at me. I know what he's thinking. It's just a matter of time before he asks. Wait for it. 

"Lex?" 

"Yes, Clark?" 

"Have you ever... um..." 

Clark is so cute when he blushes. "Have I ever what, Clark?" I have no intention of making this easy for him. 

"Have you everkissedaguy." He kind of mumbles and blurts it out. 

I manage to act hesitant. "Yes, I have. I hope that doesn't make you feel differently about me." 

He shakes his head too quickly, which makes me wonder if he hasn't thought of this topic before. No matter. It's all in my favor. Of course, this also means I have to turn the question back on him. Apparently still hesitant, obviously. 

"What about you, Clark?" I can't believe how gentle my voice is. It's not teasing the way it usually is when I'm flirting with Clark on purpose. This is part of the plan, right? It'll just make Clark more of a willing accomplice. "Have you ever kissed a guy?" Just because his father thinks it's wrong doesn't mean he didn't do it. Jonathan forbad him to join the football team but he tried out anyway. Clark has a little bit of a rebel in him, when he wants something badly enough. 

Clark's face couldn't be any redder. "No." Trying to sound... indignant? "But, I have, sort of, thought about it." 

Now this is a revelation. Who woulda thunk it? Now comes the question of what to do with this newfound information. Ask who he thought of kissing, to which the answer would either be me, Pete, or no one in particular. Or Whitney. (The offer to gag me is once again on the table.) Or I could just ask if he wants to try it, being the generous person that I am. But then he'd make some excuse about his parents being upstairs. No, I have to let Clark think it's his idea. Before I can figure out how to do that, Clark's asking me another question. 

"So, does that mean you're, like, gay? I thought you liked girls. I mean, what about Victoria and Desiree and the doctor?" 

Oh shit. He would ask me that, wouldn't he. I haven't exactly been celibate in Smallville, but just because I sleep with women... I could explain it quickly and easy enough by telling him I'm bi, but that is so far from the truth, even if it is simpler. Somehow I have a feeling Clark would think less of me if he knew I just sleep with women because they're easier to find than willing men in this godforsaken town, that women are just a means to an end for me. No way can he understand that. It's fucking shallow, is what it is. 

Wait. Since when do I care what Clark thinks? Beyond trying to get him into my bed, that is. If he respects me less because I use women - oh yeah. That would definitely decrease my chances. A flash of inspiration hits me. I can play the denial card. That _always_ gets sympathy. 

"It's not easy being gay in today's society, Clark." Good start. Even if being a billionaire means I could afford to make the rest of society at least appear to accept my lifestyle. "Sometimes it's easier to try to convince yourself that you're straight." Very well played, even if I'm bordering on pathetic again. 

Clark nods. Is that understanding? Color me surprised. Damn, I wonder if Clark's a closet case. For now, I think I'll just sit back and enjoy the show. And I'm not just talking about Six Feet Under. 

* * *

It's a good thing I had my cell on me when Lionel and Lucas kicked me out. Because look who's calling me at two in the morning. The prodigal son himself. 

"What do you want, Lucas?" I do my best to sound exasperated. 

"We need to talk." 

No shit, we need to talk. "We have nothing to talk about." Except for you stabbing me in the back, you bastard. 

"You're wrong, Lex." 

Actually, I'm not, but I don't go around letting other people see my hand. "Fine, Lucas. I'll meet you behind the Talon." Click. It's good to have the last word. 

It doesn't take long to find Jonathan's handgun. He won't mind. It's for my own protection. He wouldn't like it if his houseguest was hurt, would he? 

The Talon is deserted, as it should be at this time of night. Wondergirl Lana is nowhere to be seen. I remind myself that I don't have to worry about Lana, because Clark likes boys. So there. Besides, she is my business partner. 

Lucas is waiting behind the Talon. I almost expected to be ambushed by him, which is why I brought a gun in the first place, but that doesn't mean things won't go uphill from here. 

"Making me leave the mansion wasn't part of the plan." 

"Spare me, Alexander." Oh, so he's a hotshot because he knows my full name? "I had to make it seem realistic." 

"By kicking me out of my own house?" 

"By doing something that wasn't part of the plan." 

"The _point_ of the plan, Lucas, was to make Lionel think you were on his side, prove that he's not blind, expose him, then vote him the hell out of LuthorCorp." 

Lucas grins sadistically. "I have something more interesting in mind." 

Interesting? I'm all for interesting. Like I said, Luthors like to live dangerously. "What, exactly, do you have in mind?" 

"I figured out a way to accomplish all that we want and make it fun too." He says _fun_ like he means _stimulating_. I'm intrigued. "I hear you're into bondage." 

So, baby brother's done some research. Unless Lionel just gave him access to Club Zero logs. I decide to be a little more wary, even though I can't help but get turned on. Bondage _and_ overthrowing Lionel. Could life get any better? 

He explains the new plan, which includes duct tape and a chair. I'm liking this more and more. Especially since it involves me just sitting there and acting defiant-but-scared. Yum. Although I'd personally prefer to tape Lionel to a chair and pistol-whip him, but we're trying to reveal his deception, not amuse ourselves. I suppose we could do that later. 

"I also hear that the young Mr. Kent makes it a habit of saving your worthless ass." 

I'm too absorbed in the new elements of our plan to call him on the `worthless' part. "And...?" 

"If history repeats itself, I think we can count on Clark to figure out what's going on, and try to save you yet again. I think some blank cartridges wouldn't be out of line." Oh, I like that. "You do remember how fun it is to play Russian roulette, don't you?" 

When this is over, I'll have to kill him. He knows too much about me. 

* * *

The spare bedroom would have to be on the east side of the house. I couldn't have slept in if I'd wanted to. My first instinct is to think Jonathan planned it this way, but if Jonathan had it his way, I'd never be in his house to begin with, so there goes that theory. 

Might as well make myself useful. I'm in the barn before the Kents are even finished with breakfast. Jonathan's handgun is already back where it belongs. He'll never know I borrowed it. I'm slightly disappointed that I didn't have to use it. 

It's been a while since I've done any manual labor. It feels good. Pitching hay can be as invigorating as fencing or rock climbing. It's times like these I can just focus on the task at hand, forget about plans and corporate takeover and the art of war. There's also an undeniable comfort in the smell of a barn, a mixture of hay and grain and animals. It's calming in a kind of surreal way. 

Which is why I'm caught off guard when Clark comes into the barn. His dad must've sent him to check up on me. 

"I was going to give you some advice, but it looks like you've got it under control." 

I don't stop working when I answer him. "My family used to have a ranch in Montana. I'd go there in the summer with my mom." That all stopped after she died. After Lionel let her die. "I worked alongside the ranch hands... we all did our fair share. It was the only time I felt normal." 

I really don't know why I'm telling Clark all this. It would be one thing if I was making it up to get his sympathy, but I'm not. It's all true. Montana, being with my mother, was the only time life was about living, being part of a collective group. Then it was being shipped back to Metropolis, learning to become a modern-day Alexander the Great. Nothing less than perfection was expected from my father. Love, the kind of love I had for my mother, was considered a weakness. "A Luthor cannot afford to care about anyone else, Lex. It makes you vulnerable." A lesson that's been drilled into me since I learned to talk. 

Right now, Lucas is in the mansion, tricking Lionel into revealing that he's not blind. I hear Clark in the background, asking if I ever go back. To Montana, I'm assuming. I inform him that Lionel sold the farm after mother died. "My dad was never really a man of the people." 

Clark seems disturbed by the bitterness that must be in my voice. He tries to take the bale of hay I'm carrying across the barn. "No, Clark. I'm going to show your father that _some_ Luthors can pull their own weight." I don't plan on getting any slack from Jonathan about being a typical Luthor, or getting kicked out for not doing my share of the work. 

I notice him looking at me. He seems... uncertain. For some reason, I find it necessary to show him that everything's okay. So I smile at him. But it's not one of those forced smiles or charming grins, it's an honest, sincere smile that I didn't know I remembered how to give. And the look on his face in return is enough to make me forget about underhanded seductions. He beams a thousand-watt smile at me and I can't look away. 

He watches me work. For once in my life I feel self-conscious. Clark looks so clean cut and here I am, in my uncharacteristic cotton t-shirt (admittedly more comfortable than silk) hindered by sweat stains. I feel like a total slob. Clark, however, doesn't seem to mind. He just stares at me like I'm some kind of Greek statue or something. Careful, Lex. 

"Lex?" 

"Yeah?" I've been trying to ignore him, but he just keeps staring at me. 

"I was wondering... what we were talking about last night..." he trails off, like he wants me to finish his thought for him. 

Sorry, Clark. It's up to you. "We talked about a lot of things last night." Which we did. 

Then he's standing right next to me, and at this point it would be rude not to stop what I'm doing and look at him. 

"You know, about guys kissing guys." 

"Oh." Like I didn't know. "Do you want to talk about it more?" Suddenly I get an image of him kissing Lana. Oh God, could that have come at a worse time? 

"Actually, I was hoping maybe... maybe you could show me." It's a classic embarassesd smile and ducked head, and he's just too adorable looking up at me through those sinfully long eyelashes. That just knocks the picture of Lana far, far away. 

"I guess." Why do I feel like I want to tell him I've wanted to kiss him since the first time he saved my life? It's not true, at least I don't think it is. Is it? 

Clark is endearingly awkward as he tries to pose for the kiss. I know, it sounds weird, but he really doesn't know what he's doing. His only other kisses have been meteor-rock induced. But that's another story. 

"We're going to kiss, Clark, not dance." Shit, I embarassed him again. The kid's trying. "Just..." I grab his wrists and put his hands on my waist. I'm actually wondering what I'm going to do with my hands. He _is_ taller than me. I'm not used to looking up at someone I'm about to kiss. I finally settle on resting my hands on his shoulders. "You've gotta help me out here, Clark." I will not stand on my tiptoes to kiss him. 

"Oh." He suddenly gets it. It takes him longer to get the courage up to lean his face closer to mine until we're at appropriate kissing proximity. 

I'm very careful to just lightly touch my lips to his. Don't want to scare him away. I feel the second he returns the kiss, and I take that opportunity to move my hands around to the back of his neck. A few second later I lick at his lips until he opens his mouth to let my tongue in. I really shouldn't be enjoying this so much. 

So I stop it. Because Clark's in control of the kiss and I can't let that happen, even if it does feel good. Can't let someone else be in control. Ever. 

"You okay?" And I'm not sure if I'm asking him or myself. Because I'm not okay, because I let that control slip for one second. And Clark just nods, dazed, like it's the most amazing thing that's ever happened to him. Which, knowing Smallville, it probably is. 

Why isn't sarcasm making me feel better? 

* * *

Clark comes back from school later, triumphant because he and Chloe have done some research on the Lucas situation. Turns out Lionel's been hiding more information than I realized. Clark shows me an article about Metropolis United Charities. 

"Lucas' file didn't exist prior to two weeks ago," he tells me. I'm guessing that Chloe figured this out, not Clark. 

Clark's looking at me like a cat who brought his master a dead mouse. Jesus, do I really have to put up with this? I humor him by stating the obvious. "It's like somebody wanted him to be found." And who do we think that is? Clark's not as good at detective work as Chloe apparently is, so I have to spell it out for him and end with a meaningful metaphor. Because, well, eloquence. It's required. "I've been playing checkers while he's been playing chess." 

And I realize I probably should have been a little more wary of Lucas. I seem to have forgotten the significance of his being a Luthor: every action has an equal and opposite ulterior motive. I tell Clark I've got something to do and he pouts. Not that I care. 

I find Lucas in the predetermined location, doing pull-ups in the entertainment room. 

"I love what you've done with the place." I don't think the mega-playstation was Lionel's idea. "Especially with your latest scam." 

I throw a towel at him and he catches it. "Unlike certain people, I don't live in my father's shadow." 

Ouch, Lucas. Been saving that one for me? "Oh yes, Lucas. You and Lionel played me brilliantly. Bravo." We're advancing on each other like a couple of wildebeests preparing to butt heads. 

To clarify, part of the plan was to have a confrontation in the mansion. Make Lionel think we're really enemies. Still, I can't help making it personal. Makes it more realistic to an observer. 

"Took you long enough to figure it out. Yes, Lionel found me three weeks ago. Is that what you wanted to hear?" He's in my face. "Let's face it, Lex. I'm the son he wants." 

If I didn't know that Lionel didn't want any sons that would have hurt. I grin at him. "Careful, Lucas. You're showing your hand." But that's the point, isn't it? "What are you really after, Lucas? His affection?" I'm sure his sneer is a mirror of mine, but I can see him starting to weaken. It's getting personal for him too. "I've been his son for twenty-one years and he's never shown me any love. What makes you think he'll love you? You don't know him at all." 

No one knows him. There is no Lionel to know. The man has no soul. 

Lucas snarls at me. "Get out. You don't belong here anymore." 

It's on the tip of my tongue to tell him he doesn't belong here either. Instead, I let him know how careless he's been. "Even high school kids were able to find you." 

"You mean your _friend_ Clark Kent?" 

That would be a first. Seriously, Clark's cute, but he's no rocket scientist. No reason to tell Lucas, though. Let him think Clark's a threat to him. I choose to ignore his insinuation. 

"I'll bet there are lot of people looking for you, Lucas. Perhaps some of your _friends_ from, say, Edge City?" Somehow it feels like it really is me against him, not us against Lionel. But that's what he wanted, isn't it? And we're giving it to him. 

"Is that a threat, Lex?" 

It just could be a threat. I have no reason to think Lucas is in this for both of us any more than I am. This could be the perfect opportunity to get back at him and Lionel at the same time. 

I smile. I hope it's a dark, evil smile like I'm picturing in my head. "You know, the Luthor gene pool is a shark tank and our father's just chummed the waters." I can't resist a smug look over my shoulder as I stroll out of the mansion. "Good luck, Lucas." 

Revenge is sweet. 


End file.
